


Cause I'm gypsy

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gyspy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has been demoted from his soldier status to being a guardian angel. Turns out that his been sent to help Dean Winchester, part time hunter and gypsy. Dean suffers from Near Death Experiences almost everyday, and Castiel needs to help him.<br/>AU-post Sam leaving, but Castiel is here. So all is very similar, but not the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Angel

Castiel was hunting his prey, his one aim to kill. It didn’t matter who or for what reason. The mission had been given to him by God, relayed to him via his uppers. And he was to complete it. Castiel looked around, spotting his target enter a building. The man looked left and right, completely missing the angel standing in the shadows. The man went in, closing the door behind him silently. Above the entrance, a sign shuddered in the breeze. The lettering had chipped off and was worn over by the ages. Castiel knew that it had originally said ‘The Prancing Pony’. Though everyone just called it the ‘Roadhouse’ now.

Lawrence was a large city, and a very busy one. People often passed through the bustling city, keeping themselves to themselves, mostly. Gypsys, prisoners and criminals would come, aiming for the safety that the Hideaway gave. They could recuperate for a while and find their bearings. Lots of black deals went on inside that building, though no-one knew much about that. But honest folk avoided the building like the plague. Police had once tried to infiltrate, using undercover cops, and a full on surprise assault, but neither could find any incriminating evidence. Castiel wasn’t going there for the law. He was going there for a man who was responsible for the murder of many, someone who had destroyed the homes of the homeless.

Castiel looked around at the twilight city, then pushed open the door gently. He felt small pieces of wood embed into his palms, and cautiously used his grace to push them away from his skin. Looking around the bar, he wondered how these humans could survive so easily in such a dirty messy environment. They had so many strange appliances around, small cigarette lights flickering in the dim of the smoky room.

His target was sitting at the bar, sipping a bottle of murky liquid. Why did people drink such things that destroyed them? Settling down next to the man, Castiel ordered a beer. Staring at it for a moment, he remembered to flip the lid of the top to drink it. Opening the lid, Castiel sat back, having no intention of drinking the foul liquid. Castiel knew that he had to blend in, so he was doing something that everyone else was. 

He turned to the next thing on his agenda of what to do. He needed to get the man outside to kill him. Should he do it with his grace? Or ask him? Castiel would ask him and they would follow him because it would be the right thing to do. Leaning over, he wanted to catch his attention to ask him. But the man leaned away, turning to talk to someone else. Castiel hesitated for a moment, before listening in. It couldn’t hurt, could it?

The man was talking about the crime that he had committed. But he didn’t seem to be taking any pleasure in it. He seemed to despise it?  
"I'm telling you Simon. I didn't wanna kill them. But I had to. You know Richard. Nothing gets out of his sight. And it was a quick mercy killin'. I put the slums out of their misery. I wasn't there, I didn't wanna kill people!" Simon tried to interrupt. "That dosen't mean that you have to blow all the slums up Keith, just to gain political attention!" Keith shook his head, protesting. "If we didn't get the sights of the officals, then they wouldn't do nothing about the slums. You know that, and that's why I had to pull the strings. I tried my best, but that's the best that I can do.”  
Castiel pulled back, not wanting to listen to the conversation anymore. He had discovered more about his target in that than he did in the hour-long usual briefing he got in heaven, and that worried Castiel. How could he kill the man now? Lead him to his own death? Keith was trying to help people, he thought that it had been a necessary evil. Keith had not taken part, and he had regretted what role he did have. Keith had a brilliant soul, shining out amongst the people in this dirt filled bar. Castiel wished that he hadn’t listened, that he hadn’t gained a conscious about this man’s death. Castiel had not known that so much change could happen to his mind over a short simple conversation. And since when had angels wished?

Castiel was troubled by these thoughts and walked out the bar and into the street. He had felt claustrophobic and trapped. He had his duty to fulfil, but his heart disagreed. Could Castiel kill a man with such a hopeful shining soul? Breathing in the smog filled air, till his human lungs could take no more. Castiel wished to return to heaven to sort out these dilemmas in his heart. But he knew that he had a mission and he needed to complete, or he would be accepted back into heaven in shame.

Castiel walked back into the bar, his mind half made up. He would try to kill this confusing man and see what would happen. Castiel spotted Kith nursing a bottle of whisky in the corner. Simon had gone, but Keith was still there, his bright soul almost blinding him. It would blind a human’s eyes. Why did he have to commit such a personal sin? Castiel walked over to the lone man, sitting himself down in the torn and broken seats. Why couldn’t anyone replace them for something a bit more comfortable?  
“Keith. I need to kill you.” Castiel spoke out, giving the truth, wondering how Keith was going to react to him. 

Keith looked at him in shock, then sighed and shook his head.  
“It’s about the slum killing ain’t it? Knew I shouldn’t of taken the job.But I did and now the end.” Keith talked in a very tired way, not fully finishing his words. Castiel wondered where he had learned to speak? Because they hadn’t done a very good job. The slurred speech was unfamiliar to Castiel’s ears, but he understood. 

“I need to, but I don’t want to.” Castiel was shocked to hear the words coming out of his mouth. Was he disobeyed heaven’s orders? Was he gaining an independent heart and deciding for himself what was right and wrong? To go against heavens orders? Castiel titles his head in his confusion and wondered at himself. Keith looked at him weirdly.  
“If you don’t wanna kill me then don’t. Run way from whoever is givin’ you those orders and make yourself a new life.” Keith smiled grimly the muttered over his drink. “And Ima true backstabber so ignore me.”

Castiel only heard the utter ignorance Keith had about him. He was an angel. And heaven employed him, his brothers and sisters had. So he couldn’t run away from them. Nowhere on Earth could hide him. So he couldn’t run away. Castiel had to kill Keith. But he could take his time couldn’t he? 

Keith nodded before standing, giving his hand to Castiel. Castiel looked at it for a few second in confusion before taking it, standing up. Why did Keith want them to stand up? But now would be the perfect time to teleport away. But Castiel couldn’t bring himself to go away, to commit murder on an innocent man. So Castiel merely stood, wondering where Keith was going.  
Keith pulled Castiel up and took him outside, behind the bar where there was only a drunk man knocked out on the floor. Keith kicked him twice in the ribs before nodding. The man was either completely conked out from drink or was dead. Either was equally likely from where they were.  
“Kill me then. I don’t mind. I deserve to die cause of wha’ I did. And I’m sorry, but I did it, so I need to pay for my mistakes. Tell your superiors what you did. Ya completed your mission.”

Castiel blinked once in shock before quickly stabbing the knife he had in his sleeve once into Keith’s stomach. Quickly, before he could feel regret. He felt the blood cake his hand, like the dirt covered his alley. Staring at his hands, he wondered why human blood was so red. So dark and so dangerous. His heart became heavy with sorrow and remorse. He did not know how they feelings could hurt him physically, but it truly felt like his heart had been ripped out. Castiel had killed a man who had repented of his sins, who had asked for forgiveness. Killing Keith was going against everyone’s teachings of the Bible and the entire reason of God. God was forgiving. Why hadn’t he heard anything over the angel communication? Why hadn’t he been told to stop? Why was he questioning heaven? Why was he questioning his orders? Was Keith allowed back into heaven?  
Castiel pulled his knife out of Keith’s body and wiped it once on the scrap of cleanish cloth of Keith’s coat.

Straightening, Castiel used his grace to get rid of the blood on his hands, knife, skin and clothes, before heading back to heaven. Once flap of his wings and he was gone, not knowing about the drunk man who had woken to the gurgle of death.  
***  
Castiel arrived in heaven Castiel arrived in heaven, and acknowledged the guards at the gates. Striding in, he saw Gabriel and went to report. "Keith is dead. Mission accomplished. You can find his remains behind the Prancing Pony."  
Gabriel nodded, before touching Castiel briefly on the shoulder.  
"The Metranon requires your presence in the throne room."

Castiel nodded, turning and walking away. He could feel Gabriel's concern weighing in on his mind, a constant contact through the mental links. Gabriel was one of the few angels who wore his heart on sleeve, who actually had a heart. It was nice knowing that someone cared for him, even if that was an odd feeling. 

Castiel arrived at the throne room, wondering why he had been summoned. Had something gone so wrong with the kill that the Metranon was involved? What had he done?

"You felt compassion towards a murderer Castiel. That's what you did wrong and you need to be punished for it." The Metranon was behind a pillar of the golden marble throne room, stepping out into Castiel's view.  
Castiel nodded, kneeling in-front of the throne, showing his respect to God.  
"I merely thought that because he had asked for forgiveness and had compassion, that he might be worthy to be saved. I was waiting to see if heaven would change their orders."

The Metranon stopped in-front of Castiel, his bare feet shining in-front of him. Castiel raised his eyes slightly, looking towards the Metranon's face. He heard the words spoken resonate through his head.  
"You hesitated. You almost disobeyed heaven's orders. You have feeling that you shouldn't. You are becoming more human. This is cause of concern, so we have decided to punish you and help you at the same time. We are repositioning you from Solider to Guardian Angel. Your charge is Dean Winchester. He suffers Near Death Experiences nearly every day and I want him to live long enough to fulfil his reason. He is a gypsy entering Lawrence and there you will find him. That is your mission now."

Castiel could feel himself shrink at the demoted and wished that he hadn't listened in on the conversation. Why did he have to hesitate? Why did he have a heart? Castiel knew that he wouldn't let himself feel or stop like that again.


	2. Gypsy life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long, I had written part of it, then researched gypsy’s and their ways more thoroughly. Then had to go back and change the basic plot to accomdate the correct information.  
> Please do tell me if I get anything wrong or offensive. And if I got any of the information about guns wrong, please tell me, I have never touched a gun.  
> And I have a very stong feeling that this fic will end up being a lot longer than three chapters. But oh well.  
> But here it finally is, so please do read, review and enjoy!

Dean stretched widely, pulling himself out of the seat inside. He stepped out into the sunshine, taking a deep breath of the clean air, then yawning. Shaking his head to get rid of the fuzziness, he looked around the field they were in, and the city on the horizon. His father had left and gone ahead of them yesterday, trying to get some leads on the monster they were tracking, before they arrived at Lawrence. So Dean had been left behind again, with Sammy, the rest of the gypsy troupe, and an assurance that John would be back tonight, or tomorrow.

Luckily, Dean didn’t mind too much at being left behind with the gypsys. If he had been left in a motel, Dean would start to get annoyed. There was nothing to do but watch trash TV in the cold, ugly motel rooms. But with his family, that was fun. There was dancing, playing, gambling, drinking, colours and freedom. Yes they had rules, but they were given a lot of leash. So many women dancing, not minding who oogled them. Dean personally felt some contempt for their garish and cheap ways, but they were good companionship and something warm to keep him from freezing in the chilly caravans. 

But most of the people who travelled in the troupe were related to each other, and therefore to him. His mother, Mary, had been one of the women from this group, then left for John, his father. When Mary died, John had decided to join them and travel around. Turns out that they were all hunters, and that is where Mary had gotten her feisty spirit from. So John had entrusted the gypsys with Dean and Sammy, to learn the fine arts of hunting, blending in and surviving, while he went off to hunt, leaving them on their own.  
Sammy came out of the caravan behind him, touching him lightly on the arm so not to startle him. Dean grinned, then jumped off the steps. 

“New day Sammy. What should we do this time?”  
Dad had gone, so they were free to do what they wanted. Sammy pulled the face he always did when he was asked a question that he didn’t like.  
“I really need to revise Dean. No school means I have to study this all on my own. Sorry Dean.”

Dean sighed and shrugged. Sammy’s schoolwork was very important, to him and to Dean. Sam wanted to get into Standford, the top-notch university. Which is pretty amazing. Dean was proud that he had such a clever brother, but sometimes Sammy took his love for learning a tad too far. 

Sammy sighed, then turned around and headed back into the caravan, probably to go back to all his precious books. Dean shook his head, then headed out to the firing range.

Though he knew that his aim was as perfect as ever, he needed to keep practicing, and he wanted to try out the new SA-80. Apparently this was a standard gun for Air Training Cadets in Britain, but it had plenty of shortcomings, especially in the difficulties of loading it. 

Dean pulled it apart, setting the barrel and receiver to one side, for cleaning later, stripping the gun down to its basic parts. There was the trigger mechanism housing, cocking handle and extension, bolt carrier, firing pin and cam stud, recoil rod assembly and the extras of the sight and fore-grip. 

Once Dean had stripped it down and understood the mechanisms, he reassembled it, making sure that it was unloaded. Then he loaded the magazines, cocking the rifle. Uncocking it, Dean made sure that there were no chances of a stoppage before he unloaded it. Dean walked away from the table, heading over to the large firing range that the gypsys had provided on the field. Dean reloaded the gun, cocking it against his shouler and relaxing. He took a look down the sight, aiming for the cross on the can 400m away, and took fire. The gun recoiled against his shoulder and he grunted slightly, ignoring the slight ring in his ears after the gas flare shot. Blinking, he cursed the lack of gas parts, remembering to squint his eyes for the second shot on the second can next to the first. After he shot a total of three more times, Dean walked over to the cans, noting that they were all slightly to the left, the first ones further than the rest. 

Nodding to himself, going over his method, Dean failed to notice the man standing by the fence of the shooting range. Dean had already loaded and set-up, taking aim when the flapping of the man’s beige trench-coat caught his eye. Cursing, Dean put the safety back on, keeping it in his arm. He walked over, vaulting over the fence to look the stranger in the eye. 

“What are you doing there buddy? This is a dangerous place to be. Civilians like you could get in trouble!” Dean shook his head and jumped to sit on-top of the fence. Turning away, he was not expecting the man to respond.  
“Sorry, but I was enjoying seeing you shoot. You have very good aim.”

Dean blinked once in surprise, then jumped back over the fence, shaking his head, just his luck to get roped in with the weirdo. Heading back to the loading desk, Dean dissembled the gun, wiping all the parts down smoothly.  
***

Dean heard his aunt Pappy call from the front desk and he walked over. Wiping his shoes on the floor at the back of the caravan, Dean shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up on the peg, his Led Zeppelin t-shirt showing over his chest, slightly damp and sticky with sweat. Walking to the desk, he looked at the customer, then shook his head.  
"Hello again. What are you doing here this time?" Dean didn't bother to hide the hostility in his voice. This man had intruded and stopped his shooting practice, and was now here to bother him even more. Just his luck to get roped in with the weirdo. Aunt Pappy nudged his side and gave him a glare, before addressing him. "Dean, this is a new recruit. He wants a job, thinks he can join the shows."  
What Aunt Pappy meant was, he's a freak, he'll do shows in the circus, being the point for lots of normal people's laughter. Even an annoying dick like him didn't deserve that. But it was good pay, good food, shelter, and security. Though that security could be compromising, they were gypsy’s after all.  
Aunt pappy continued. "Cause he's new and stuff, I want you to be the guide. John's out, Sam's studying, and well, I think it'd be good for you." Smirking slightly, she left, leaving the two of them alone.  
"So what’s your ability?" All the freaks had something, something to show off. Dean didn't have one as such, though he sometimes went on stage as a helper, or to demonstrate his accuracy. Dean could shoot any target with any object, gun, knife or rock. Dean had been so proud of himself when he first went on stage to demonstrate this. Maybe dad would recognize his talent now. Nope. John was still the annoying father, who kept pointing out his failures. Dean knew that he wasn't good enough, could never be good enough. Though the light and the smile on John's face was all he needed to feel good inside, when he first went on stage.  
“I have wings. And a very fast regenerative ability. My body repairs itself several hundred times faster than the human body." Dean wondered at the man's choice of words, the 'human body'. But those were some pretty cool skills. he could see why this man had tried to go somewhere else, had come to them. Gypsy camps were good places to run away to if you were different. Or if you had seen things that no-one would believe. Pappy was never one to accept total useless strangers into the circus, so Dean forgot his hate, and tried again on a new foot.  
"That’s really cool. A nice ability. But what did you say your name was again? The man looked at him in confusion. "I didn't say my name. But it is Castiel. Yours is Dean. Nice to meet you." Castiel held out a hand to shake, looking at him in all seriousness. "Nice to meet you too Castiel" Dean shook the man's hand, grinning, before pulling him through a gap by the side of the table. “So, we’ll see how you work with us, if you can stay, then you might get a permanent job. Any time during this initiation thing, you can opt out. Most people do, though that’s your decision. You won’t be counted as a gypsy, you will be separate, treated differently, but you will be expected to conform to our rules if you are to live with us. If you stay on for several years, then thing’s might change slightly. But for now, you are initiation, so do your best.” Patting Castiel on the back, Dean stopped in-front of his caravan. It had an extra bunk, so being the buddy, Castiel would have to move in with them. Sorry Sammy. Pushing away his clothes under his bed, he led Castiel over to the back of the caravan. Right now, the bed was being used as a table, for all Sammy’s work and gadgetry.  
Dean tapped Sam’s back, sighing when Sam only grunted in reply. Twisting around the chair, he pointed at Castiel. “We have company. Be polite.” Sammy immediately closed his notebook, standing and pushing the foldable chair into a flat square. Stashing it above his bed, he looked at all his work strew over the bed and sighed. “Dean, is he gonna be with us?” Dean grinned and slapped Castiel on the back, hard. “We’ll see.” Sam nodded, then motioned helplessly. “You go take a walk around the neighbourhood, give him the grand tour while I, while I tidy this mess up.” Dean nodded and gave a two-fingered salute, before dragging Castiel out the door.  
***  
Dean finished showing Castiel around the camp, showing him the toliets, campfire, caravans, show tent and where he couldn't go. The places only for the gypsys. The sun was nearing the horizon, clouds turning pink and purple in the evening light. Fireflies filled the air, twinkling among the many starts, the background noise of insects growing louder with the darkness. Dean had stopped, pausing on the edge of the camp, facing the fields, his body relaxing. Castiel was standing next to him, shifting silently. Slowly he relaxed, breathing in, joining the peace of the night.  
Castiel turned to Dean, squinting against the brightness of his soul. "Thank you Dean, for showing me around. I hope you and I could become close friends." Castiel spoke the truth, wishing to grow close, so Castiel could protect Dean easily. Dean blinked, breath catching, his forehead crunching in confusion. "Um. Okay Castiel. Thats. You've only known me for under a day. Hold your horses. Sheesh." Dean blinked, turning on his heel, eyes steeling. How could Dean have let his guard down around this guy? Dad would be disappointed. Walking away, the dinner bell rang through the air, and Dean hurried off fgratefully, ready to drown his worries in food.  
***  
Dean was standing behind the nearest caravan, away from the warm light of the campfire. His father, John Winchester was standing in-front of him, running a hand through his hair. “Dean, do you know this man? Can you let him get exposed to Sam? Have you assessed him, decided if he is a threat? I can’t interfere who Pappy let’s in and out of the camp, but I care about who gets close to you and Sam.”  
Dean nodded in understanding, caring about Sammy as well. “Yessir. Not a monster, no higher motives. Just a man on the run. I got Sam to do some research on him. Managed to drag up some information. One Jimmy Novak, ran away from home not long ago. He also had a sighting at the back of ‘The Prancing Pony’. Killed a man. But apparently the man wanted to be killed, and this Jimmy fled, using a distraction of light. I presume that he is running, and wants somewhere to hide. I have my knife under my pillow, I’ve put him in the bed furthest away from Sammy, the spare one. If he is a threat, then everyone will deal with his as is necessary. I’m on my guard, don’t worry sir.”  
Nodding, John turned on his heel, heading to the noise, laughter and food. Dean let out a steady breath, taking control of himself again. Rubbing his shoulder, where his father had gripped, letting him know the severity of the situation. He could not let Sammy get hurt. But little did they both know that Castiel was hiding in the shadows of the opposite caravan, having heard every word.  
***  
Castiel followed Dean from the camp fire, Dean having eaten enough for both of them. Castiel didn’t eat much, requesting only a small bowl. After all, it would be impolite to refuse all food. He needed to keep up the act. Pushing open the caravan door, Castiel walked over to his bed and sat down, watching as Dean and Sam stripped to the undergarments then crawled under their respective bed covers. Castiel decided to follow in suit, pulling off his trench-coat, shoes, trousers, shirt and tie. Wriggling under the covers, he missed wearing the clothes that were now neatly folded at the end of his bed. It was cold.  
Lying down, Castiel closed his eyes and reflected on the day. He would not be able to sleep, but hopefully he would give the impression that he was. During the course of the day, he had been informed of many things, and had tried to fit in. It seemed like he had gotten away with it. So he would be staying in this caravan for the next month or few, during the initiation process. Then he would move to the normal people’s caravan. Because he was not born a gypsy, he couldn’t stay with them, or learn their particular ways. He was only accepted because they needed workers for the carnival, and people with ‘abilities’.  
There were many rules that were given, the first one was to stay within the host country’s rules as well. The second was to stay as much as possible out of the gypsy’s way. The rest were to be given to him over time via Dean and the other ‘normal people’. The foreigners.  
Settling deeper into the covers, he let his thoughts mull over to other matters. To his bunk mates, and to Dean.


	3. Stage fright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I based what happened in the show on Darren Shan’s Cirque du Soleil. A brilliant book/ series/author.  
> Also, Do you want longer, less frequently updated chapters, or shorter quicker chapters?

Sam pulled himself out of bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stretching his mouth and yawning until he could feel his soul leave his body. Sitting up, he noticed the books at the foot of his bed and he groaned, flopping back down on the covers. It was a Saturday, so he could take a day off work, help around the camp instead. And tonight there would be the usual show, but this time, Dean would be on with a new recruit by his side. After two weeks of helping out, learning the ropes and rules, getting used to this party of a place, the men had decided that Castiel had the okay to go onstage. But, as a precaution, it would have to a join show between Dean and Castiel.  
He hoisted himself out and kicked the base of Dean's bunk, gaining a groan from the occupant. Grinning to himself, he folded up his bed covers and stuck them in the hidey-hole in the wall above the bed. Pulling out some clothes, he closed the cupboard and sat down on the wooden base to get changed. He saw Dean reluctantly get out of his bed and do the same, Castiel following Dean's lead. He was still hesitant, but did it all neatly, rolling it up and making sure that there were no creases in the fabric.  
Sam then pulled open the blind next to his bed, letting the sunlight stream through and tossing his dirty underwear into one of the drawers, to be taken out and cleaned at the next opportunity. Which needed to be soon, the drawer was over half full. Why the camp had decided to move on from the city that they had met Castiel, he didn't know, though he guessed that it was something to do with the pointy teethed vamp Dad had killed there. maybe Dean knew? Sam would have to ask him later.  
Quickly glancing around the cabin to make sure that no-one was indecent, he pulled open the caravan doors, blinking at the harsh sunlight. He hoisted up the trash from its place in front of the door, he carried it over to the trash cans at the border of the camp. Kicking away at the dirt on the ground, he walked back to the caravan, smiling softly at the sight of Dean yawning just inside the door. Castiel was trying to get out, but was unable to. He was completely blocked by Dean's beefy arms.  
Sam saw Castiel cough, then Dean finally turned around and noticed him. Dean gave the slightest blush, something only Sam's close relationship with Dean would notice. They conversed for a few minutes, probably about tonight, before Cas nodded at something and left, ducking under Dean's arms, to do whatever jobs he had for today.  
***  
The tent was packed, full of bodies that talked and chattered, waiting in anticipation for the night. Food was being passed along the rows, Sam was hanging around the back of the balcony. Ruby passed behind his row, her side brushing against his back. Smirking, he turned to look up at her, all dressed up in traditional gypsy dress for the show. He dropped a few coins in the tray and took a small box of chips. Not healthy, not even that delicious, but tradition, part of the experience.  
Opening the box and taking out a couple of chips, he leaned forwards in his seat slightly when the lights dimmed. The chatter below him quietened and exhilaration thrummed though the air. A light lit the center stage, and Sam had to blink away the sudden blindness. A steady beat of drums started, thumping under the clang of cymbals and tambourines. Then Aunty Pappy strode out to under the strobe light, spinning and laughing, her brown hair shining in a golden halo. Her skirt wove and twisted in her ankles, the tambourine in her hand beating and tapping faster. Suddenly she stopped, sweat glistening on her forehead, glowing in the harsh light. She coughed, her voice sounding louder through the mic strapped to her cheek.  
"Hello people! Welcome to the wonderful circus of The Winchester Psalter! We have many many acts for you to see and enjoy today, to stun, amaze, confuse and awe you! Welcome and I hope that you enjoy your stay!  
Pappy bowed, her hair flipping over the side of her face, before turning to stand at one side of the stage.  
"So, first things first, Tamara and George!"  
Tamara came out from the curtain, running around the circumference of the stage, tugging her husband George around with her. "We are Tamara and George! Fantastic eating and tales act!" The audience whooped and cheered, paying close attention to the pair at the center stage. Same grinned, used to their act, but it always amazed him. And theirs wasn't even the best. Often, they were forgotten in light of the other acts, but it was still spectacular.  
Tamara strolled to the center of the stage, a plate of food was handed to her. "George has a limitless stomach, almost. He bloats, but excretes it quite quickly." Her amplified voice was drowned out by the laughter of the audience. Sam could see her grin from where he was, blindingly white against her dark skin.  
"We first discovered his ability when we were out on a date one day. A simple day out, at a simple burger joint." George nodded, holding up a burger in one hand. "I had a burger and half a pack of chips, while George had two packs of chips and a burger. Then he finished my chips as well! Then, as a joke, we bought an ice cream, which he inhaled right up. We walked out, after paying of course, and simply wandered. We came across a small bakery, and George wanted to eat some more, so he did." By this point, George had held up all the items on the plate and placed them on a tray. Tamara finished and stepped back, and George stepped forwards. He held the tray aloft and slowly ate each object. When the tray was empty, he licked his fingers, then twisted the tray in a knot and placed it in his mouth. His face scrunched up from the effort, his teeth grinding against the plastic, but he swallowed. Once he had gulped it all down, he opened his mouth, showing no tray or food left anywhere. George nodded once and grabbed a bottle of lemonade from a nearby seller. He was chugging it down as the pair left the stage, hand in hand. The audience was cheering, stamping their feet and laughing. Sam picked up two more fried, looking at them closely before placing them in his mouth. How did George do that? All these people that he lived with were truly amazing, and he had no idea yet how they did it. Though he guessed it had something to do with the demon blood, which they all had. But George didn't so, a mystery Sammy would never solve.  
Pappy then spun back on stage, when the cheering grew quieter. "Thank you Tamara and George! Now after that epic display, we now have a magic act, with people being controlled by our man Adam! And Max! He will be there to make sure that no-one comes to any harm with his telekinesis!" The audience oohed and aahed in appreciation, hands flying in the air as they wished to be volunteers.  
Pappy twisted and twirled, hands outstretched, eyes tightly closed, then stopping at random. "You!" She was pointing at a small boy neat the front row. She waved her arm to motion her forward, and he nearly leaped out of his seat in his excitement.  
"What's your name young sir?"  
"Ben."  
Sam's mouth dropped open in surprise, and he quickly shut it again. Ben? The little boy with Lisa, the kid they helped with the changelings a long time ago? The one Dean thought was his kid? Dean was probably backstage with the same gobsmacked look on his face and Sam chuckled silently.  
"Well Ben. You have the lucky face of being controlled by Adam and Max," Sam could see the two men walk forwards along opposite sides of the ring, following its perimeter. They were dressed in simple black tops, but both wore a sash of red. Their trousers were black and they wore no shows.  
Pappy motioned Ben to move to the center of the stage, directly in front of Adam. Max took his place by Adam's side, the ever watchful guardian. He rarely speak, but his experiences before the gypsy camp explained that. Ben grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet, but Adam placed a hand on his shoulder and made a shushing noise. "Calm down." Immediately Ben quietened, hands dropping to his sides, his body relaxing.  
"Walk around the ring." Ben slowly began to walk around, feet dragging slightly.  
"Stop." So Ben stopped, freezing in mid –stride.  
Then Adam turned to face the audience. They were all looking on in slight amusement, but most adults had a look of skeptism on their faces.  
"I know what you are all thinking, It's all fake, set up. He's just following orders, not being mind-controlled. Unfortunately, I do not have anything that would risk his life and prove it, which I think is necessary. So instead, I think we need an audience demonstration. Everyone stand up."  
Suddenly every person was standing, looking around in bewilderment and slight fear. They couldn't force themselves to sit back down, it’s what they wanted to do. But it wasn't optional or prepared. Their drinks, food and other objects were suspended in space, just above their laps. Both Adam and Max had expressions of extreme strain on their faces. Both pairs of hands were directed towards the audience, keeping their grip tight.  
Then slowly Adam relaxed again, and everyone sat back down, feeling themselves free to move. Sam resettled himself in his seat, happy with the performance. Pappy would be proud of them, so the barbeque would be highly enjoyable. Then slowly Max let go, the drinks and food drifting back down into their owner's laps. Everyone's faces were a mix of shock and horror, apart from the children, which were full of awe.  
But Sam could tell what the adults were thinking. Something along the lines of, what are these people, what else could they do? Etc etc. Then one child began to clap quickly, and Sam could see Ben standing there, hands furiously clapping, wonder and amusement on his face. Then all the other children in the tent also joined in, and soon the adults (mostly parents urged by their kids) were as well. A cacophony of noise filled the tent and everyone was left wondering of how on earth could Aunty Pappy bring another act that could beat that majestic and terrifying performance.  
“Well! There we go! Another wonderful performance by Adam and Max! Let’s show your appreciation and wonder again!”  
Then she started to clap again, and was joined by everyone else in the audience. The two men bowed again and left the stage, Adam staying behind for a moment to help Ben back to his seat.  
“So after this perfect act, how could we do something just as good, if not better? Could anything surprise you now? Well, five people in the audience got a slip of paper along with their rickets, in a sealed envelope. You were told to keep it safe as part of a later act. Well, now your time to shine has come. If you received such a letter, please come down to the stage.”  
Two men, two women and two children came down from various parts of the seating. Then Ava came out of the back, her hair tied up smartly and casual clothes standing out against Pappy’s. She had furiously refused to wear any of the colourful clothes which ‘clashed with [her] skin, fashion taste and body shape’. It was a long standing argument that had been in concrete since she had arrived.  
“Hello people! I am Madame Ava, here to foretell your future!” she swept her arm across the audience, before turning to one of the women by her side.  
“So, can you Miss?”  
“Georgina.” The woman had a full face and a heavy red blush staining her nose and cheeks. Her partner stood by her side, heavy and imitating a tree truck.  
“Could you Miss Georgina please open your envelope.” She nodded and her partner pulled an envelope out of his breast pocket and tried to hand them to Ava. But she shook her head and made him keep them.  
“Georgina, could you please open your envelope.” She blushed harder and nodded, before slowly tearing open the envelope.  
“And could you please tell us what is written inside.”  
“Um, it says..” Her voice was halting and a mix between annoyingly high and yet somehow very low. She coughed and forced herself to speak louder. “It says that I will trip and spill the beans.”  
Ava nodded encouragingly. “And when you walked into the tent, did you not stumble on the stairs and spill your pod of beans that you clasped as a lucky charm?”  
Georgina’s eyes flew wide open and stared at Ava in shock. “Uh, uh yes. But, but I got this envelope before that. And how did you know about my beans?!”  
Ava winked and bowed at the audience, shaking her head slightly at the inquiry. The spectators cheered, their clapping resonating throughout the tent again.  
“Thank you for your time Georgina.” She motioned Georgina to bow and walk offstage, her hefty partner in tow.  
“Now,” Ava turned to the two children standing in awe behind her, “let us see what your envelopes have to say.”  
The small boy hurriedly ripped his open and stared at the piece of paper in confusion.  
“What does yours say?”  
“That I will get, marr-married to my, crush. What does that mean?” Ava crouched down and ruffled the boy’s hair.  
“It means that the person you like right now most of all, you will get married to them. Like your mummy and daddy.”  
The boy’s face shined with comprehension, then he blushed. He hurried up the stairs and practically flew into his mother’s arms. The crowd was silent, as they didn’t believe that the performance was over, and to be honest, how were they supposed to tell if it was absolute tosh, but Sam grinned, knowing that Ava’s predictions were correct, and wished a happy marriage to the young boy.  
“So we have three people still with envelopes. What on Earth do they say inside? Well, I know, since I wrote them, but no-one else does. But I think that this time, it say the name of an object that they will pick.”  
Benny then came out of the back, all dressed in black, with a baseball cap perched on his head. Pappy could never convince him to take it off. But honestly, Sam thought that it suited him. Benny was holding a small red table, folded under one arm, and a large red box in the other. He walked in front of Ava and pulled them out, pulling various objects from the box and laid them out haphazardly across the surface of the table. Sam could pick out a hairdryer, a large pencil sharpener, several stuffed toys, an iron, headphones, band-aids, a wig, a painting and a backpack full of cotton. But there were other smaller items dotted amongst them.  
“So, could each of you pick one item. I will turn around and each of you should hold them up to the audience. Once you have done that, put them back, as close to their original positions as possible. Then I will turn around, say what you picked. After that, you shall read from you and it shall be the item that you picked. Then I shall vanish in a puff of pink and gold smoke. Nee?”  
Everyone nodded, confused and slightly hesitant expressions stamped across their faces. Ava turned around and fiddled with her fingers, then leant across the barrier and conversed with various members of the audience. Meanwhile, the woman picked a small bottle from the table, holding it up high and placing it back down on the table. Then the child picked up a purple cauliflower, after much thought. He held it up like a trophy above his head and danced in a circle. After a while, he reluctantly placed it back down as the male picked up a plastic baby, showing it to the audience before jamming it back down on the table. Ava then turned around, gesturing for them to open their envelopes.  
“You, young one, you took the purple cauliflower didn’t you?” The girl nodded in surprise, before opening her letter. The audience held it breath as she started to read.  
“Purple-cal-cali-fl-flower.”  
The audience blinked once, in stunned appreciation, before clapping the girl back to her seat.  
“Sir, you took the baby, and madame, you took the bottle didn’t you?”  
They both nodded once, then read out their respective items from sealed envelopes. Their eyes were shocked and mouths agape. Seriously, how did Ava do it?  
Ava giggled and nodded, before splaying her hands to the floor and vanishing in a puff of pink-gold smoke. Just as she had predicted. The clapping intensified, and the two adults walked back to their seats, quickly sitting down and discussing their experiences with their families.  
Once they had gone and the stage was clear, Benny having taken everything backstage, Dean and Cas finally came out from behind the curtain, all suited up in black, green and blue. Pappy had said that the new outfits brought out their eyes, and Sam had to agree. They were instantly visible, a light in the room, the knife in Dean’s belt glinting the darkness, and the easy confidence of Castiel apparent in his walk. He had grown more comfortable, and used to the ritual of what would happen tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this is a short fic that I've suddenly had the muse to write. The entire story has been summed up in the summary, but here's something that I hope you will enjoy. I think that this will only be three chapters long, but may be more.  
> Please R&R. The next chapter will come quicker that way. Please?


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